The Rainy Afternoon When I Dared to Go Further with Him

It had been a couple of months since that first time I felt his heat between my fingers, and I still remembered with uncomfortable clarity the way his breathing sped up while I touched him. Since then, every kiss and every caress had pushed us a little farther, as if the two of us knew, without saying it, that sooner or later we were going to cross another line.

His birthday fell on a warm afternoon in October. We had a silly, lovely plan: walk through the botanical garden and have a picnic in the park. The rain ruined everything in a matter of minutes. The sky turned gray all at once, water started pounding against the windows, and we ended up taking refuge in his apartment, which was empty that afternoon.

Mateo shared the place with a college friend, but that day his friend had gone away to spend the weekend with his family. We had the house to ourselves, the sound of the rain in the background, and all the time in the world.

We spent the first few hours like two happy fools. We put on a movie neither of us really watched, laughed at anything and everything, and got caught in those looks that say more than any sentence. We curled up on the sofa under a blanket that smelled like him, my cold feet seeking out his.

Outside, the rain showed no mercy. The drops drew crooked lines on the glass and the afternoon light had turned a soft gray that made everything feel more intimate. There was no sound other than the water and our breathing, and I felt like that small apartment had suddenly become the only place in the world that mattered.

That was when I noticed his hands were starting to get playful. They roamed over my legs with a slowness that had nothing innocent about it, slid up my thigh and toyed with the button on my pants. I smiled at him conspiratorially, because I knew perfectly well what he wanted: he wanted my hand on his cock again, wanted me to make him come slowly like last time, looking him in the eye.

This time I’ve got another idea.

A week earlier, my friend Lucía had told me, between laughs and whispers, that she had sucked her boyfriend’s dick for the first time. I didn’t really know much about how that was, until she explained it to me in every detail. She told me how she’d taken him in her mouth all the way to the back, how she’d run her tongue over the tip, how she’d played with his balls while jerking him off at the same time. She even told me that he had finished in her mouth, that she’d swallowed all the hot cum, and that, against everything I would have imagined, she’d liked it.

At first I was a little grossed out just thinking about it. It seemed impossible to me that someone could actually like something like that. But the way she described it, how clearly she remembered the thick taste of semen, the way her face lit up when she talked about how he had grabbed her head while he came, left me with a curiosity I couldn’t get out of my mind.

What stuck with me most was something she said: it gave her satisfaction to give him pleasure, even if she didn’t physically feel all that much. The simple fact of knowing she was emptying his balls with her mouth was enough. And that’s when I realized that was exactly what had happened to me two months earlier. Touching him, feeling his cock harden in my hand until it burst with cum, watching him lose control, had been enough for me, even though my body hadn’t felt anything specific.

That night, after talking with Lucía, it was hard for me to sleep. I tossed and turned in bed imagining the scene, Mateo’s cock going in and out of my mouth, weighing my own shame and my own curiosity like someone gauging two weights in each hand. Part of me still thought it was too daring. The other part, the one that was gaining ground every day, wanted to know what it felt like to have that kind of power over someone, to be the one deciding and the one driving him wild, the one making a guy come with her tongue.

So the idea had been going around in my head for days. And it came back just that rainy afternoon, with his warm hand on my thigh and his mouth searching for mine. I decided it was time.

—I’ve got a surprise for you —I told him, softly, but with a loaded edge.

—Oh yeah? —he replied, pulling back just enough to look at me—. What is it?

I didn’t answer him. I slid my hand down to his pants and started undoing them slowly, slipping my fingers inside his boxer briefs. I found him already half hard, hot, throbbing beneath the fabric. I stroked him first over the cloth, squeezing gently, feeling him grow against my palm, and then I slipped my whole hand in, wrapping my fingers around his cock, pulling the skin back to uncover the head. He was already wet with pre-cum, and that fact alone tightened something low in my belly. I moved the blanket that covered us aside, looked him in the eyes and, with a confidence that surprised even me, asked:

—Want me to suck you off?

He froze for a second, as if he couldn’t quite believe I was being serious. His mouth was slightly open and his cock was throbbing against my hand.

—Really? —he murmured, his voice rough.

—Really —I answered, squeezing him a little harder—. I want to try.

When I leaned in a little more over him, his expression changed completely. It was a mix of surprise, desire, and a slight nervousness that I loved discovering on his face. He nodded without hesitation, unable to speak, and sank back against the sofa, opening his legs to give me room.

I gave him a coy smile and knelt on the floor between his knees, feeling the tension in the room grow thicker. I finished pulling his pants and boxers down to his thighs, and there it was, at the level of my face: hard, red at the tip, with a prominent vein running down the side to the base. I was nervous too, to the point of hesitating for an instant, not because I didn’t want it, but because everything was completely new to me. I took him carefully by the base, feeling him heavy and hot in my palm. The warmth of his skin made me shiver. I took a deep breath and, slowly, stuck out my tongue and ran it over the tip, tasting for the first time the slightly salty flavor of his pre-cum.

He shuddered all over. A short moan escaped his chest.

—Oh, God… —I heard him whisper.

That gave me courage. I parted my lips and took him into my mouth, first just the head, sucking it slowly like it was candy. I could feel him filling me, warm, throbbing against my tongue. I went down a little farther, trying to remember everything Lucía had told me: cover your teeth with your lips, help yourself with your hand at the base, move your tongue underneath while you suck. I kept going little by little, taking him deeper with each movement, until I felt him brush the back of my throat and had to pull back.

The first full contact was a shock of sensations. His uneven breathing, the awareness that I had his whole cock in my mouth, the certainty that I was trying something for the first time in my life. Literally. His hands sank into my hair with a tenderness I hadn’t expected, slid down my back and rose again to my nape, over and over, as if he didn’t know where else to leave them.

—Just like that, stay like that… —he panted—. Jesus, Sofi, your mouth…

I was trying to learn on the fly. I listened to every sigh, felt every small tremor in his body, and put into practice everything Lucía had told me laughingly. I started moving my head up and down, setting a slow rhythm, leaving a trail of saliva that ran down his shaft and made the movement easier. With my free hand I caressed his balls, weighing them, feeling them tense against his body. It seemed like he liked it, and that was enough for me. Every time he held his breath, I felt a stab of pride I hadn’t expected.

Every so often I pulled off and looked up at him. His expression was a strange, beautiful mix of pleasure and something like gratitude, while I ran my tongue along his sides from top to bottom, lingering on the thick vein throbbing underneath, kissing the tip and taking him back into my mouth again. I ran my tongue over his balls, one and then the other, and he let out a moan that came almost involuntarily, clenching his fingers in the sofa.

—Fuck… don’t stop —he begged me, his voice breaking.

I came back up with my tongue to the head and took him in again, deeper this time, using my hand to jerk him off at the same time I sucked him. I savored every one of his reactions. When I picked up the pace, his breathing turned ragged, his fingers closed harder in my hair and, almost without realizing it, he started pressing my head against him, barely moving his hips to push his cock deeper into my mouth. I let him, surprised by myself, sucking harder, my mouth hollow, my tongue wrapping under him. There was no doubt left that I was enjoying it. And I, in a way I still didn’t fully understand, was too: I could feel everything throbbing between my legs, I squeezed my thighs together to calm that new ache, and kept going.

The minutes stretched out, filled with the wet sound of my mouth going back and forth over his cock, that soft, obscene sound that afternoon belonged only to us. His voice started to crack.

—Sofi, I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come, okay? —he warned me between gasps.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t pull off. I kept sucking, faster, harder, my hand squeezing the base in the same rhythm, determined to take him all the way like Lucía had told me. His whole body tensed, his back arched slightly against the sofa, his fingers dug into the nape of my neck. And then he came at last, with a long, muffled groan.

I felt the first hot spurt hit the roof of my mouth, thick, and then another against my tongue. The amount startled me, the flavor strong, almost metallic, and I pulled back a little by reflex, just in time for the last spurts to hit my lips and chin. I felt his warmth again, just like that first night, only this time coating my face. It took me by surprise, but I didn’t move away. I stayed there, with his cock resting against my cheek, feeling him throb while he finished emptying himself. Feeling strangely in control of the situation.

I laughed softly, a little embarrassed and at the same time proud of what I had just done. He looked down at me with a shy, protective smile, still catching his breath, breathing hard.

—You’re incredible… —he murmured, brushing my lower lip with his thumb, wiping me a little.

He got dressed and went into the kitchen, mumbling that he was going to get something to clean me up with, still a little unsteady on his feet.

I sat on the sofa waiting for him, my heart still racing and the taste of his cum still fresh on my tongue. A thick drop slid slowly down my chin to the corner of my lips, and ended up slipping into my mouth almost without me deciding it. I closed my eyes and let it go down. And there, finally, I experienced what Lucía had tried to describe to me. I discovered a new taste, salty, a little bitter, not pleasant in itself, but coming from him, from his cock, from having milked him with my mouth, and somehow, in a way I couldn’t explain, that made it bearable. Even likable. I even smiled to myself.

Mateo came back with some paper napkins and cleaned me up with exaggerated care, as if he were afraid of hurting me, running the napkins over my lips, my chin, my neck where some had landed too. When he was done, he thanked me for his present, with such awkward solemnity that I couldn’t help laughing. I shut him up with a long kiss, my mouth still tasting like him, knowing that afternoon had changed something between us.

***

As soon as we pulled apart, we heard the sound of keys in the door. His roommate had decided to come back early. We looked at each other, conspiratorially, aware of how close we had come to being caught, and a nervous laugh escaped us that we had to hide in a hurry, straightening our clothes and hair. I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to erase any trace.

We spent the rest of the afternoon the three of us, eating the birthday cake Mateo’s mother had left in the fridge and chatting about anything at all, as if nothing had happened. But every time he looked for my eyes across the table, I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I remembered the way he had come in my mouth only half an hour earlier.

That night I took a taxi back to my apartment, still with his taste in my memory. As the city slid by wet outside the window, I thought about how much had changed in just a few months. I knew that I was opening the doors of my own sexuality wider and wider, that I was stretching my limits a little more each time, and that I was only just peeking into something much bigger.

I fell asleep smiling, thinking about what the next line we would cross would be. With one hand between my legs, imagining his cock again, this time going somewhere else.

(To be continued…)